


The Value of Hue (you)

by Desdimonda



Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, I’m surprising myself with this, M/M, More tags and ships to come with chapters, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 00:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17693675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: Obito had been there from day one. So had colour.Until Obito died, and took that with him too.——Written for day 6 of KaKaObi week - Soulmates





	The Value of Hue (you)

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This was going to be a one shot, but it’s spiralling out of control. I didn’t want to rush the rest, so for prompt day I thought I’d post the intro chapter, and then go form there. 
> 
> This is also my first dive into soulmate AU <3

They said it would take time. That time heals and holds and can reform a piece of what you lost. 

They said it was a symptom of stress and loss and one of the stages of grief. Kakashi couldn't remember this stage in the list. 

They said it was a side effect of adjusting to a Sharingan that wasn't your own. 

Adults lie. All the time. He knew, because he was one now. And the world was still painted grey. 

It was normal now, a world without colour. It was only left in his memory, but that too was beginning to fade. That part was harder that his change in sight. Memories. They sometimes felt like the only real attachment to the ones you love. Words weren't something that came easily to Kakashi. Emotion stuck beneath, unformed, unaddressed. His face covered, unreadable. It hadn't been so bad when his dad was still alive. He laughed more. 

His laugh changed when Obito died. 

It nearly disappeared completely with Rin. 

Watching her die in monochrome was harder, he thought. Remembered auburn hair moved, threads breathing with a faux life. He couldn't see the way her eyes lost their colour as her blood spilled over his hand, colder than he'd imagined. Kakashi always wondered if that was the Three Tails influence, chilling her blood and heart to a temperature that was strong enough to say goodbye. 

But he was wrong. He realised he cheapened her decision and resolve with his thoughts. Rin wasn't just their strength - she was her own virulent presence, planted steadfast and firm, more than either of them had ever been. 

If this monochrome had been a symptom of grief, why hadn't he started to then go blind after Rin?

For a while, he truly thought he might. So he read. He read a thousand books to distract, revert, block, obliterate. And it seemed to work. 

Coping mechanism, they called it. And inside books everything was already black and white. The colour, your imagination. 

It fit. 

He found one of his old books one day when unpacking a box of Obito's things he'd kept underneath his bed. A thick layer of dust papered the top, a confession of neglect. Kakashi never forgot about the box, it just felt too big to hold. Too heavy to lift. Too-too-

The dust caked his hands and legs as he lifted the lid. Spare goggles; the first kunai he got that he used to practice with; photos of family, found; tat that he loved to collect and small gifts from the old people in the village he helped, regularly. He never really knew how sentimental he was. A few books, too. Or that he liked to read. 

One caught his eye. It drew him. Light, thick leather, etched with metallic detailing. An unusual sight. The lettering read “Folk and Fables: Tales of the Heart and Soul”. 

Kakashi remembered this. The leather was blue. The lettering gold. He couldn’t remember reading it, though. Maybe it was really Obito’s, and his memory was blurring. Then why did it feel comfortable in his hand. Like it used to be there?

The box lay open for hours as he read, smelling the pages, touching the edges, imagining what colours the pictures might hold. He flicked the page, drawing his hand over a particularly beautiful one. His favourite so far. A figure stood before a mirror. A faceless reflection. One hand touches the mirror. The other is over an eye. He wonders what colours breathe in this piece. Do blues surround the figure, their melancholy hands the only comfort - or curse. Or is it a kiss of orange, maybe the greens of earth. 

What he doesn't know, is that it's grey. 

He reads.

 

_ We make choices all the time. From simple, to the monumental.  _

_ What to make for breakfast; what to wear, today, tomorrow; the path we walk, to left, or right; which foot is first; a smile or frown; a no, or yes. The things we say or do - are all choices.  _

_ But the things we feel - are not. The things we love - are not.  _

_ And neither is  _ **_who._ **

 

It continues. The descriptions of the world reflecting all he's lost. The feelings of the protagonist and her life as she meanders through it, purpose unknown, unfelt. The only real worth to her, others.

 

_ When you find that one love, built and shaped into someone, the world is painted in a palette that only your heart could create. Everything is bright, alive, in hues of love, from bedrock to the stars. _

 

Okay. So it wasn’t Icha Icha, but somehow, he kept reading.

 

_ That one love, it’s not just of the heart and head, but of the soul, too. _

_ Soulbound. Soulmate. The piece you found that you didn’t know was missing. _

 

Kakashi scratched the scar on his cheek, just beneath his Sharingan.

 

_ And then that morning when she awoke to find her gone, her lover was not the only thing that had left her. _

_ The world, was muted. All colour, had gone.  _

_ For a while, she thought Avi had taken it with her for safe keeping. Everything was safe with her. Within, beside, around. But Avi never returned. No amount of denial and love and will could bring her back.  _

_ That piece of her soul, was gone. And this time she knew it was missing. _

 

Kakashi shut the book. He stuck the lid back on the box, nudging it back beneath his bed and left.

The book was still there when he came home. He didn’t know why he was surprised, but it stopped him in his tracks.

He slept on the sofa that night. And the next. The book untouched on stale sheets.

Adults lied.  
  


* * *

 

 

“That one next, senpai,” said Tobi as he picked up a tub of paint, and held it out towards Deidara. The tub was full of bright orange paint, akin to his spiralled mask. The paint smudged at the tip of his fingers, marring his leather gloves. 

Deidara scratched his chin with the back of his arm, his hands covered in a myriad of colours - a pair of rainbow gloves. But he still managed to smear a new line of paint on his face. Tobi giggled. 

“You really like your orange, huh?” said Deidara as he frowned at the tub. It drew closer to his face, and Deidara slowly leaned back. “Fine.  _ Fine.” _

“Thank you, senpai!” 

Deidara could feel the smile in his words. He sometimes wondered what it looked like. Stupid probably. “Do you have to watch me every time I paint?”

“Always.” Tobi settled in comfortably next to Deidara, crossing his legs, gently rocking back and forth to his own tune. “I love seeing all the colors come together. It’s my favourite part.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
